Stop all the Clocks
by sariahbradshaw
Summary: We accept the love we think we deserve. -Chobsky. Emma and Killian, on the journey from the Underworld to Home. Because returning is only half the journey.
1. Cut off the Telephone

A/N: I'll be ignoring Hyde and his friends for a while. Set in a semi-AU world where they actually make it home before Killian gets sucked into the Land of Untold Stories. Because they deserved some slack after going through the Underworld. Chapters are sequential but for the most part can be stand-alone.

Warnings: Sexual content. Vague, non-clinical descriptions of PTSD. Also, language but thus the rating.

Disclaimer: Clearly.

She's shaking by the time they reach the house.

His Swan: his beautiful, strong, saviour of towns and slayer of demons, is shaking in his arms.

"Swan?" Killian tries to keep his voice from alarm, he really does. He knows everything is a more than a touch overwhelming, it is for him as well. He's still reeling with the realization that he was restored to the living by the bloody god of Olympus. He can't stop touching her, can't believe he is allowed to touch her again. Robin's death and their last goodbye and everything in between….Killian is so elated and so in love with this woman and half in shock at everything that has happened and more than a little terrified. So he gets it, he _knows_ that the initial joy would fade and they would have to sort through the murky waters of what everything else means. But he's never felt her tremble like this before and no amount of rationalizing what a crazy fuck-up their last few days (months) have been can keep him completely calm at the sight of the woman he loves seeming to fall apart in his arms.

She doesn't respond. His hand is wrapped tightly around her middle as they pass the threshold of their home- _their home, the Dark One's house_ -cornflower blue doorframes and all, when her legs finally give out.

"Emma!" Hook is no longer even attempting to restrain his fear. He feels her knees buckle just as the door shuts behind them and suddenly he is supporting all of her weight. Her _slight_ weight.

"Oh, Emma, love, when was the last time-?" _She ate, she slept?_ Hook cannot finish the statement. Guilt wells up in him. Emma had always been slender, but possessed the kind of power that made her a force in any room, and now she is _light_ in his arms. No longer the woman who took him down with a sword and a look at a lake. Killian looks, really looks, for the first time since the graveyard and behind the soul he adores, sees her pale complexion and the waning shine in her hair. His hand is pressing on rib bone and not the solid presence of muscle he was so accustomed to. For the first time since he has known her, Emma Swan seems small.

She is still, of course, Emma Swan so she waves him off with a tired left hand. "S' nothing Killian. It's just adrenaline leaving my body. I'm just…" She sighs and struggles against him until he has to sit to continue holding her, bracing himself against the entry wall.

Swan is daft is she thinks he'll let her go despite her shifting, and after another moment she exhales and leans her head back against his chest unresisting.

Killian rubs soothing circles on her back with his good hand and keeps her trapped against him with his other arm as she continues to quiver gently. In the quiet, his clever eyes begin to catalogue additional changes the unfavourable time has wrought upon her. In addition to the slightness, Emma has deep purple marks under his eyes and deepened wrinkles lining her cheeks. The skin of her elbows is chafed, fingernails blunted and uneven.

(While she never kept them long and painted like Ruby, they have always been perfect little ovals that were so Swan-esque he smiled endearingly every time he had noticed them.

"I'm going to file a restraining order if you keep grinning like a madman while staring at my hands."

"They're lovely hands, Swan."

"Seriously, Killian. It's creepy."

"Tell me Swan, are your toenails in such pristine condition as well?"

"Oh My God. Please tell me you don't have a foot fetish."

"Darling, I am quite sure that there is not a piece of your body I would enjoy devoting time worshipping."

"I-How-How the fuck did we end up talking about this?")

It occurs to him then, that while his body ( _if not his mind and spirit)_ has been returned to him at the peak of physical capacity by a god, hers has not. Hers bears the markings of sleep deprivation, of darkness, of exhaustion, of grief.

Hook turns his head to kiss her cheek. "Swan," then her nose.

"Do you think you can stomach something to eat, love?" A kiss drops on her brow.

He feels more than sees her shake her head. "Alright then love, let's get you to bed. I quite suspect it's missed your company for some time now."

His words seem to do her in, and Emma goes from shaking to sobbing in his arms at a rate alarming enough to break Killian's heart. She turns into him, her head resting against his chest as her hands grasp tiredly at anything they can reach: his jacket, shoulders, hair. Loud keening noises erupt from her chest in between his name and _Hook_ and it's all Killian can do not to break down with her. He tightens his hold on this magnificent, broken woman as if he could physically keep her from falling to pieces: unfolding his legs and pulling her fully into his lap. He uses his hook to secure her grasp around his neck, urging her to rest her chin in the crook of his shoulder. His bad arm bands around to keep her from swaying away with the force of her cries, and he pauses only to slip her boots off before her feet are tucked under.

"Swan-Emma, it's alright. I'm here. I'm here and alive and you're safe and we're home," Killian hushes her as best he can while stroking from her crown down to her back what he had learned was a soothing motion.

("Why is it always my hair?" She slurred, naked in rented bed at Granny's and in that post-coital daze of intimacy and honesty that he treasured as much as the force of their orgasms.

As his hand was still combing through the blonde tresses, Killian though better than to deny his fascination. "Do you dislike it?"

Green eyes blink dazedly and a tiny furrow appeared on her brow. "No, it's not...it's nice. I just-is that like a _you_ thing or a Neverland thing or a pirate thing?"

He blames it on the afterglow for how long it takes him to register exactly what the _thing_ is she's discussing. Because he knows she's had a bloody run for it, but her hair looks like bloody gold and he can't believe no one has ever given her the simple affection of caressing through the locks.

Killian would simply have to rectify that. "It's a Swan thing.")

His very being longs for that simple moment back at Granny's as he imagines that his shoulder droops under the weight of her tears. Time stretches and stills as her violent shuddering and loud keening begin to slow and quiet. Worn muscles seem to protest the force of her grief, weakening her until she's merely whimpering, sprawled boneless across his chest and fingers gripping the lapels of his jacket with a terrifying refusal to let go.

"Swan," Killian's voice calls softly once she finally falls silent, his fingers going up to entangle hers and release her death grip on his jacket. "Up we go, it's time to rest."

She makes no indication that she's heard the words but nor does she struggle when he lifts them both, her legs folding about his waist and arms coming around his neck in a practiced move. She slides at the first step, so Hook readjust for her dead weight to swing her legs over his brace before moving up the staircase and into a bedroom neither had ever slept in.

Killian fumbles for a moment, the blinds drawn in the room to eliminate all light. He cradles her to his chest with his bad arm so he can feel against the wall for the damn switch that activates electricity.

"Love, can you tell me where-" He gives up with the sentence already out of his mouth. She's been past the point of actual words for what seems like hours now. However, his fingers manage to stumble on the switch and Hook lets out a small sigh of relief as dim lights floods the room from a bedside lamp.

"There we are Swan." He's fairly certain she may have passed out and the sentence leaves his lips unbidden, a force of habit. It reminds him of when they first returned, memory-wiped from Camelot. He had engaged in one-sided conversations with Emma then too.

("Granny's coffee is shit this morning, love." He spoke to his cup.

"Gray skies at sunrise this morning, it'll rain by nightfall. Remember a jacket Swan." Leroy had shot him an odd look as he pulled his boat in by the docks.

"The Queen has been especially delightful today. Won't you come tell me if she mucked up Camelot so I have cause to flay her with my hook, lass?" Archie looked ready to approach him as he overheard, walking by with Pongo.

"He's crying, Emma. You made your boy cry. Love, come back." Belle had ushered him into the shop, pulled out a glass, and poured him a shot. And then a several)

Killian shakes the memory from his head, pulling her impossibly closer to remind himself of her presence. That the silence does not mean that she is out-of-grasp and he is alone. He resumes his task, surveying the room as he crosses.

The large bed is imposing in its aesthetic austerity, the gray comforter clearly a choice of a darker being. The curtains are navy. In the low-light, he guesses the walls are storm-coloured. The lamp and bedside table are of dark, neat wood with perfect lines and edges. The rest of the space is empty and the sheer wrongness of everything makes Killian hesitates until he hears Swan whimper underneath him. His grip tightens and suddenly he doesn't care about all the wrecked memories and dark places this room holds. All he is concerned for is the well-being of the clearly run-ragged woman in his arms.

Hook shifts as he goes to place her gently in the mattress. He moves around to black slacks, one hand deftly pulling the uncomfortable fabric from her legs. The dark dress smock soon follows, leaving her in a tank-top and underwear when he finally pulls her hair from the tight-looking ponytail. The long locks are still damp from the rain as he detangles them gently through his fingers. Emma shivers at his touch and he frowns before quickly relocating her under the sheets and pulling the heavy comforter over her, bundling. He has half a mind to run downstairs and grab one of the uncomfortable looking kitchen chairs to place by her bedside so he can stay up and watch over her. He know's that if he curls up around her in bed, he'll fall to the siren call of sleep, worries be damned.

However, the moment he goes to pull away, tiny hands jerk awake to claw at his hands, wild green eyes popping open. "No. no. Don't leave. Don't leave again Killian."

If her voice wasn't so hoarse, he might have laughed at the idea of Emma pleading with _him._ Since knowing her, truly knowing her, he's never been able to disobey even her inclinations. (With the caveat that whatever she desired wouldn't harm her.) However, her tone is worn from crying so instead, with a murmured swear, Hook undoes his jacket and shirt; followed by hook and brace. "Hush love, I'm right here. Right here."

He slides onto the bed beside her and Swan lifts her head, hair falling in disarray across the monochrome pillows. She reaches for him with trembling fingers, tugging at the button of his jeans until Killian takes over, bringing the hand to his mouth for a swift kiss before following her command and slipping out of his pants and leaving him-

("Killian, jeans are not leather. You need to wear boxers."

"I assure you that I am _well_ aware of the different texture the clothing of your realm is. However, those awful...male undergarments of your realm are bloody worse than bologna. I've never felt so constricted in my damn life, Swan and I've had three-hundred years worth of _wanting_ in leathers."

"Wanting, really? You talked dirty the entire time you were going down on me last night and you can't say _erection_? Anyway, those were briefs, Hook. Boxers aren't that bad, I promise."

"I assure you I have no qualms about speaking of the carnal, merely with the lack of poetry in your colloquialisms. And you promise Swan? Had much experience with male anatomy in undergarments, have you?"

"You know what, fine. You are your stupid poetry can chafe all you want in jeans."

"You adore my poetry, Swan. I felt how wet it made you every time I said _quim_ last night. I could simply _talk_ you to completion, my love."

"...If I ever hear Henry refer to it as anything but a vagina, it'll be the last time you ever have an orgasm."

"Bloody hell, love. Your son? Were you trying to ruin the mood?")

-bare.

She's got the tank-top halfway off her head, and Hook lets a clicking noise before moving to lift the garment the rest of the way, soothing hand and stump down her arms to urge her to lay back.

"Let me care for you Swan."

Emma complies easily enough, and that is perhaps the most telling sign of how tired she must be. She is nearly a rag-doll, letting him maneuver behind her back to release her bra, sliding the straps down. His fingers hesitate slightly at the hem of her panties, searching her face until she presses a hand to his chest, its fellow curving around his jaw. Wordlessly, he nods and pulls the delicate garment down her legs before discarding it, caressing up her flank as he returned to face her.

This is far from the first time they have been naked before each other but it is the first time Hook feels his throat close with sorrow rather than lust. He swallows, feeling his adam's apple bobble with the tenseness of his own throat. Blue eyes begin to burn.

Her stomach is no longer flat but concave. Long, pink marks scratch along her torso, her arms, her legs. (He knows she must have been to drained to use her magic to heal herself when she returned, but his stomach clenches riotously as he contemplates whether the Queen was to wrapped up in her grief to be bothered or if Emma hadn't asked, had wanted the marks to scar.) There's a deep gouge right above her sternum he can't even contemplate and her eyes are unfocused, lacking the fire that guides him through the dark night.

(And her perfectly-kept toenails are bent and bruised, the smallest toe on her left foot looks like the nail has been ripped in half.)

All this, and she is still the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, her love for him lingering at the dampness of her eyelashes as she looks back at him. She looks at him like he is Zeus, like he might raise the moon and breath life into every creature. She looks like she has half-died and has no qualms about it given that _he_ is the reward. And this, this is the truth that makes him swipe at her face quickly, _needing t_ o be strong for her.

"Love," He bows his head and breathes the word into the taut muscle of her belly, quickly followed by a reverent kiss. "Love, love, love," Each word is punctuated with a tender kiss as his mouth climbs his way up her belly to her sternum and finally to her waiting mouth.

"My darling, my sweetheart, my Swan. I love you." Killian breaths into her mouth before kissing her chastely.

Quiet tears began to pull down her cheeks and he brushes them off with his thumb as he sets his weight gently against to reassure her of his presence, to reassure himself of hers. She sighs, her fingers simply pressing into every patch of skin she can reach while she blinks disorientedly through the wetness in her vision.

"Killian...please," She looks so hopeless in that moment. So unlike herself. It breaks him.

"Emma, love, what? _Anything._ What do you need?" He whispers into her sternum, long dark strands brushing her collar. He's afraid of speaking above a murmur, of raising the sound as if it would shatter her bones. Hook has already promised himself that come hell or new villain, she is _staying_ in this bed for days.

Weeks, she had promised him. Weeks.

"Please, I need you...I need you inside of me."

He stiffens and feels his eyebrows lift even though he's pressed too close for her to see because he's not even sure he could perform with the particularly cutting blend of love and elation and grief swirling around them, and he is damn sure she can't.

"Emma…" Hook raises his head to study her face, trying to read what she's truly seeking.

(He's an observant man and he's long since been his favourite study in subtitles and underlying meanings)

Slowly, not taking his gaze off her, his good hand trailed down to touch lightly between her legs. Unsurprisingly there's no sign of wetness. Of need or want.

Emma shifts, moving her hips onto his and forcing a hiss to leave him. "I-I just need to feel you, _please_ Killian."

She's begging. God, she's begging. Never in a million years was Captain Hook prepared to deny a lovely, wanting woman begging in his bed; nevermind one he _loved_. Brow furrowing, he slowly slides one finger into her unprepared, tight sex, still hawk-eyed on her face and ready to change course in an instant.

And hears a small noise of discomfort.

Immediately, Killian swears, goes to withdraw his ring finger only for her hand to come down and clench on his wrist, forcing it to stay inside of her.

"For gods' sake, Emma stop this," He tries to pull his hand from her suddenly iron grasp; their movements just stirring the finger inside her and he sees her face pinch in pain as she manages to manipulate his index finger inside her as well.

He wouldn't have even needed to be staring frighteningly at her face to know. He can feel how unwelcome his touch is, the walls of her cunt tight and resisting on his fingers. Killian goes to yank his hand from her grasp (surely, if she couldn't even stand before, this untimely surge of strength must end) but the movement just causes her to toss her head as her pelvis twitches in hurt. He stills then, too terrified to do more harm and breathing rapidly with confusion and fear as he mentally begs her to turn and face him again. To make whatever the bloody fuck is going on in her head stop. The gears in his head turn until it clicks, and then all thoughts slow and screech to a halt as dread wells up from deep within in.

"Swan, _please_ no." He places his face on her breastbone and reaches with his bad arm to turn her chin so he can meet her lost green eyes.

"Please. Please my love. I don't want to hurt you." He doesn't care how wrecked he sounds and wishes he had taken Dave's advice and simply gone up to his old rented room with her at Granny's instead of back to this house; if only so the old wolf could hear his cries and pull the shotgun out on him for ungentlemanly to the town saviour. Anything to stop this madness, because for the first time Emma is asking him something he cannot give.

She keeps one hand trapping his wrist and the other goes to his length, stroking it through his sleepwear. It would be arousing if not for the wetness still falling out of red-rimmed eyes and the dryness between her thighs. "I killed you."

"No. _Emma_. No. No. No. No. You saved me. You don't deserve-Swan, STOP," His voice raises to a pitch as he feels her hand on his begin to curl and move his fingers inside her in time with the hand wrapped around his cock. Her interior muscles twitch at each movement and for moments, he's simply too overwhelmed to move, oscillating between terror and horror.

Gods knew if he hurt her now, hurt her in this way, he'd never be able to make love to her again. His stomach flopped uneasily

(Did Zeus give him anything to regurgitate? He knows he hadn't eaten anything as a Dark One, or when dead, but he felt so ill he felt he may turn and expel his new guts on the floor.)

He has only ever wanted to make love to this woman. To make her feel good. Now he is-

"A pretty, blonde distraction"

"An anchor." It's his words. Fuck, those are the things he said to cut into her being echoed back. A scythe slips into his lungs, stealing his breath and he breaks.

Liquid trails from his eyes, and he jerks his torso and mouths every swatch of her skin he can reach, leaving wet kisses and heartbroken tears. Her collarbone. Her breast. Her chin. Hook can barely inhale but he pushes out nonsense words of affection against her skin as he goes.

" _IloveyouIamsorryIwillneverleavepleasedon'tmakemehurtyouIforgiveyouthosewordswerelieslove"_

He has no idea if she can decipher what he's saying or if any of this will work, but Killian has to try something. His stump is caressing anywhere his mouth can't reach, chin nuzzling gently across her skin. He has to get her to wake up and end where this is going because it's ruining him.

If he hurt her…. If he hurts her again, gods, he'll never be able to live with himself. _(The irony)_

Without realizing it, just weeping quietly into her skin as he clutches her to him with his arm, head lying above her heart and intermittently pressing his lips gently to her flesh. Hook is trying to wrap her soul up in his, to protect her from her demons in whatever way he can even as her touch keeps trying to coax his length.

Slowly, he feels the hand around him slow until it finally withdraws. The fingers manipulating his wrist follow the same action, until the tight grip goes limp. Without delay Killian pulls gently, quickly, from her depths and rolls himself onto the opposite side of the bed, shaking and silently wetting the sheets.

The night ticks by until his trembling subsides and Hook is relatively certain he won't lose his stomach over the side of the bed. The panting noise he heard dimly registers as his own rapid breathing and he forces it to slow, inhaling sharply and longly. He keeps his own hand out of his line of sight but even as he quiets, Killian picks up the sound of sniffling in the room. Without conscious decision, he turns to face her.

Swan is curled up like a child, her legs pulled to her chest and her too-thin form shaking visibly as she tries to stifle her tears. Limp blonde hair pools down her back and suddenly he can't watch. Even if the idea of touching her right now makes him physically sick he can't-

His first touch is tentative, just a hand stroking up and and down the wings of her back. She arches away from him and lets out a harsh noise, attempting to curl deeper into herself.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so so-" He makes her whimpering through her cries and his heart clenches. His brave, beautiful, tired, guilt-ridden Swan.

Killian just pushes himself closer, close enough that his chin rests on the curve of his shoulder and he carefully manipulates his arms so they lay limply around her: bad arm under her side and the other hanging against her waist. He noses her neck for a moment, contemplating his next move and still too afraid that she'll try to reenact the horror show of a few minutes ago to embrace her fully.

Emma seems to read his hesitation though, and a broken sound tears from her throat. It's as though her body is too exhausted to go through the full measure of sorrow and it's simply being wrenched and drawn out. Hook wants to stop this as much as he wanted to stop her hurting from before, so he presses his hand lightly against her side, squeezing once and moving his legs so her cold feet align with his warm calves.

("Love, I'm going to have to ban you from the bed if you don't start wearing socks. Those are little icicles you call toes. Have you always been this cold?"

Shrug. "I never got used to wearing socks to bed as a kid. It's too weird to start now."

"Feet chill with rising adulthood, Swan?"

"I never had enough socks. It was a waste to use them at night."

"Ah." Shuffle. Legs lift and shift.

"Killian, I know my feet are freezing. Get them out of your legs and go to sleep."

"Actually Swan, I think this will work quite nicely. I can keep you warm in the cold months and you can keep me cool in the warmer ones."

"It's Maine. There's like three hot days a year."

"Shush Swan. Go to sleep.")

"It's alright darling, I've got you. I know. I've got you." He murmurs into her hair rocking slowly back-and-forth until her body finally gives in and stills against his. He keeps his light movements, waiting and listening for her breathing to even out. He continues to cradle her gently and knows, deep in his soul, that this won't be the last difficult night. The worst, _(he hopes, begs, prays-gods_ ) but not the last. Instead he kisses the top of her head and murmurs sweet dreams and promises of devotion into her ear even as he fights nodding off to drift off until he hears it:

"Love you, Killian. Love you.." She's half-murmured it into her pillow, surely followed by a pile of drool and a final, long exhale until her breaths slow and sleep overcomes her.

And despite the anguish of this night and the myriad of fights and questions and doubts he knows they have to overcome in the coming days, the words give him hope, give him faith that-

 _(even though it will take a lot of work and patience and time_ )

as sure as day-

They'll make it back to home. Back to each other.


	2. Prevent the dog from Barking

Disclaimer: Not mine

A/N: Seriously, Swan looks rough at the end of season 5.

They had taken to feeding her.

Every morning, without fail, she was greeted to a sumptuous 3-course breakfast by one of her boys. Henry tended to favour waffles, (his favorite) sausage, and hashbrowns. Killian seemed to prefer fruit, an omelet, and toast. (Really, she had to ask who taught him to make Eggs Benedict one day.) Additionally, there was a several-step lunch wrapped up and ready-to-go for her work at the Sheriff's Station. (There was often a note stuck in the brown paper bag. Henry's made her tear up and Killian's often made her blush and hastily hide the message from the inquiring eyes of her father.)

Lunch was always a surprise.

Henry made food he would eat. (Still a child, even at the cusp of teenhood. Anything good to him, seemed good. Between grilled cheese, mac-and-cheese, chicken nuggets, and hot dogs, she really wasn't complaining.)

Killian, she knew, made food he thought she should eat. (Stir-fried chicken and broccoli, powerhouse sandwiches with toasted kale, baked ziti with spinach) Seriously, she was going to have a long talk with either Granny or her mother about teaching him nutrition and cooking. How he managed all of her kitchen appliances with one-hand was a conversation she still needed to have with him.

It's wonderful. It's warming. It's slightly unsettling.

Not that they want to feed her, because she was the same when Henry came back from Neverland. (Kidney pie, mac-and-cheese from scratch, hot ham sandwiches) It's unsettling because it's not like she was the one who _died._ Plus, it had been weeks. Sure, she knew that she had looked a little ragged when they returned from the Underworld, but it's not like she hadn't been thin before. Truly, she was going to need a new sheriff's uniform by the time they were done. Of course, it's not their incessant need to feed her that keeps her up at night, has her gnawing away at her bottom lip currently distracting her from paperwork. Rather, it's her pirate's lack of appetite to feed or indulge her in _another_ way that does.

Three weeks. Three sexless weeks.

She can admit to herself that she sorta expected them to go at it like rabbits once he returned. (She only slightly fantasized about it.) They had a healthy sex-life before she truly became the Dark One. Even in Camelot he indulged her, keeping her occupied through sleepless nights. It was after, when he realized what _he_ had become that they entered a period of abstinence. He, too angry. She, too determined. Straight from Dark One he became a Dead One, and that was that.

At first, she understood. She had no idea what condition his returned (New? Restored?) body had been in those first few nights, but she knew _she_ had been a step away from keeling over. The weeks of literally not sleeping, grief over his death, stress in the Underworld: all of it led to a bone-deep weariness. She had chalked it up to Killian's concern for her well-being, his commitment to making her _sleep for weeks_. Emma was all too keenly aware of how high he regarded her safety, her life. However, after weeks falling asleep curled around each other with nothing more than his soft good-night kisses into her hair, hand pressing gentle patterns into her side; she was a bit beyond frustrated. Seriously, the man was walking innuendo and she had seen grade school children with more heat between them then her and the pirate currently shared.

 _And maybe..._

"Knock, knock, Swan," Killian said as he entered the station, knocking her out of her thoughts.

 _Speak of the devil._

"Lunch has arrived." A bag of Granny's take-out lay between hand-and-hook. Once a week, he went to the dinner for her typical order. She suspected he hoped that by doling out the greasy goodness at regular intervals, she might not seek it out in excess herself. Seriously, she was going to kill whoever showed him the fucking food pyramid.

"Swan?" He said, sinking into the plushy rolling-chair beside her. The take-out bag crinkled between them as he sat in on the table beside them, concerned at either her expression or lack of attention. His Hook graced her wrist as he tried to call her back to him.

Frustrated or not, Emma realized that it was poor manners to ignore the man who had showed up bearing food. Shooting a tight smile, she tapped the hook. "Thank you. Join me?"

Killian shot her a look to let her know that he was in no way deceived by her prevarication. However, he graciously seemed willing to table the discussion for now and merely opened the bag to reveal two sandwiches, handing one to her.

"Why of course, Swan. I wouldn't make a lady eat alone."

He's propped up in their bed, resting on the large wooden headrest when she comes home. The gray sheets pool around his hips, his chest bare as clever fingers turn another page. Emma eyes him from the doorway, thoughts stolen away for a moment from a long day of sheriff drudgery and the sheer _beauty_ (he'd scoff at that adjective) of him.

Seeming to detect her presence without the aid of sound or movement, Killian looked up. A happy smile broke over his face as his eyes found hers.

"Well, it seems Swan has decided to grace me with her presence," He said, folding the top tip of his page over to mark the spot and placing it down on the nightstand beside him before she could discern the cover. "Long day love?"

Emma mentally shook herself and passed through the threshold of their bedroom, pulling the door behind her.

"You can say that again," Her statement was punctuated by a long yawn as she carelessly pulled the jacket off her frame and let it fall to the ground carelessly.

Killian pulled a face at the move (neat freak) but says nothing as she tugs her shirt over her head and lets it fall just as easily, quickly followed by her jeans. In only her undergarments, Emma swayed to the bed, shimmying into the covers he holds back for her. She slid in under the covers and his arms come around her, her lips pressing against her hair in a kiss.

"Sleep love," He shifts behind her one final time to bring her closer into his arms but makes no other move as the sounds of night echo against their window.

However, as comfortable as his arms usually are, Emma finds herself restless. She waits until she hears his breathing even out before twisting in his arms, trying to will herself to sleep. Dark thoughts of their lack of intimacy enter her mind, twisting her gut and keeping her up, staring at the ceiling. Either his naval instincts kick in or she's not nearly as subtle as she hopes, because his good hand rises from her waist and softly begins to press her back. Emma moans as she feels a soft kiss follow his press between her shoulderblades as he continues to massage her back, trying to rid her of the tension she knows resides there. It's nice but it's not what she _wants_.

He's breathing against her neck now, pressing chaste but hot kisses along her neck. Her gut clenches and suddenly she was a hot mess of _want_. She heard her own gasp, felt her body begin to writhe against his.

"Are you ready to talk about it love?" He asked between peppering kisses along her neck, her collarbone.

Of course he wants to talk when all she wants is _him_. Of fucking course.

Emma swallowed, hard, has his hand pressed masterfully against the knot on her lower back.

"I-I-I just want you," she managed to stammer out, finally tiring of his teasing. She turned suddenly in his arms, moving above him to take control.

Killian didn't fight her as she settled above him, breathing heavily as she straddled him. The fabric of his canvas pants noised as her thighs settled around his. However, her focus was on his face, those deep blue eyes and pupils blown black with desire. Emma almost smirked to herself.

 _Of course he still wanted her. Of course he was just being careful._

She rocked hard above him, drawing out a long moan from deep in his throat. Killian had his hand caressing her hip, his hook lightly tapping her waist as he looked back with affection. She swiveled her hips again and suddenly Emma needed him naked. _Now._

She made quick work of her bra and leaned back enough to pull her underwear down her legs before stepping back to the bed and pulling his pants down, leaving him, typically, bare for her. Quickly, she hovered back over his hard length, rubbing herself along him.

Killian groaned, his breaths panting as she worked up and down his length. His legs moved, restless against the sheets of their bed. "Love-Swan-Emma...condom, _gods,_ " He moaned.

 _Condoms-right._ She had been so worked up over their lack of sex life that she hadn't actually thought to go pick up what she needed for her sex life. _Brilliant move, Emma._ Her brain went to where she had them after his death. No, after he had turned into the Dark One and could no longer stand the sight of her. Shit, had it been that long? Suddenly, she was aware of her meager stash that they had left in Camelot. (She had been a touch preoccupied during the return trip with memory charms and almost deaths and such.)

 _Shit._

Killian seemed to read her nonverbal answer and slid under her, so her open thighs lay against his chin. "It's alright love. We can make do." He pressed a kiss to her inner thigh to emphasize his point.

But, that's not what Emma needed. While he was _masterfu_ l with his mouth, she wanted him _in_ her. Right this very second.

She knew they were both clean. (An awkward exchange between him and Whale and herself that she tries to put out of her memories) She knew that she had taken her pills _religiously_ once being released from prison. (One oops baby, as wonderful as he had turned out to be, was enough.)

She moved back down his chest, away from his waiting lips. "It's fine. Just fuck me, god Killian." The last part came out as more of a moan than she intended it to but she still felt him still beneath her.

Killian stopped his movements, hand and hook bracketing around her waist to prevent hers as well. He tilted his head up to her, eyes scanning her face. _Open Book._

It wasn't like he was opposed to not using a condom (truly, he really, really wasn't) or that he didn't trust her, or that he was even all that set against a pregnancy (they should probably actually talk about her wanting children prior to him naming them in his head, but he could be a weak man on occasion). No, it was that he knew _Emma_ was against having sex without every possible means of protection. He knew it because they had done this before. After a terrifying panic attack, she had explained to him the full story of Neal and his abandonment, leaving her pregnant and in jail and why it was so important to her to feel protected. He understood. He knew it wasn't about her not trusting him or not thinking him worthy (though truly, he wasn't) of all of her body. This was a deep and ugly wound that ran deep in her soul, that when prodded, still hurt. Killian knew this. He knew that Emma knew this.

 _So then what the bloody hell is she..._

It clicks, pouring ice into his veins so suddenly he's half surprised he doesn't make a sound. Insead, he tightens the grip he has around her waist as he lets out a strangled breath. He had thought that her desire tonight might mean that they were past this. Memories of that awful first night drag to the forefront of Killian's brain and it's all he can do not to buck her off of him.

"Swan, stop this."

The shift is so abrupt, it takes Emma a minute to catch up. One minute, she was grinding on him and the next, he has her frozen in place and his mood had _clearly_ altered drastically. She blinks as she tries to figure out what possibly could have come out of her mouth that led to this.

"Stop what?" Now that surprise has fled, she feels embarrassment creep up on her. She's stuck in his lap, feeling his weaned erection between her thighs and tries to slide off of him, dodging his pointed look.

His fingers twitch and tighten when he feels her attempt to escape. "Emma, look at me."

The command in his voice, which typically makes her throb and gut clench, suddenly makes her furious. She jolts from his lap, swinging her legs over to the side of the bed. Her legs touch the floor and she stalks over to their dresser. Her skin itches with how naked she suddenly feels.

"Stop trying to _fuck_ you, Jones, is that it?" Her hands are digging furiously through their drawers as the pitch of her voice rises. "Did Zeus fuck up the goods when he brought you back?" She knows she's being _petty,_ but she can't seem to stop. "Can't seem to keep it up? Or did Zalena decide to curse your dick this time and I have to kiss it to make it-" She's so deep in the red behind her eyelids that she has no idea he moved until she feels the lightest brush against her shoulder blade.

Stubbornly, Emma keeps her eyes shut tight and her face and hands in her underwear drawer as she feels him curl around her back, sliding an arm between her breasts to rest at her hip. His fingers press little circles into the indentation of bone. She feels her breathing quicken, body trembling against his gentle ministrations as he seems to draw the anger out of her like venom.

She has a hissy fit and calls him impotent and his response is to comfort her.

 _It's easy to see who the adult is in this relationship_.

"Sweetheart, please look at me." He breathes the words against her shoulder and it's the plea that forces her to turn her head in a near compulsive act.

Green eyes meet open blue ones, scanning her face with both concern and an unsettling understanding. The wide lips of his mouth quirk in a sad sort of smile as he holds her gaze. "Now then, why don't you tell me what's wrong?"

"Why don't we have sex?" She blurts it out and can actually feel the heat rising from her own cheeks. But now that she's started, she can't stop. "I mean, I know a lot of shit has happened what with me-I was the Dark One and you were a Dark One and killing you-like actually, I _killed_ you." She has no idea if he can understand the string of words coming out of her mouth at such a rapid pace but she barrels on regardless. "And with the Underworld and Liam and fucking ambrosia; I would totally understand if...I mean Killian, you have no obligation, like _zero_ fucking obligation to stay with me if things have changed. I would totally understand-"

That seemed to be the point he tired of listening to her relentless babbling because sudden his lips were pressed against hers, _hard_.

The kiss is unrelenting, his teeth biting at her bottom lip until she gives him entrance into her mouth, tongue sweeping deep into her. The arms that were once holding her in a lax, mockery of an embrace have moved. His hand is fisting her hair, forcing her jaw to tilt up into the kiss. His other arm is banded around her waist, pushing her back against him until she remembers that she had in fact been unsuccessful in her hunt for clothes and he was once again throbbing against the crease of her ass. They could have been kissing for minutes or hours, Emma has no idea. It isn't until she moans into his mouth at a particularly hard rock of his hips that he breaks the kiss, leaving them both gasping for air.

He keeps his hand firm in her hair, something intense and almost angry flashing in his gaze. "You would _understand,_ Emma? You could let me walk out of this house, never to see me again, and you would be fine!?" His voice curled with heat, dark and full of promise as he slowly turned her in his arms to meet his chest. "After coming down to the goddamn Underworld to save me, after offering me half of your bloody heart, after passing the test of True Love," He snarls the last two words at her, inches from her face. "You would just let me leave? Because I am afraid, love, that I do not feel the same. I will always fight for you. I will always follow you. I will always want you, and I would not fucking understand if you walked out that door- _our_ bedroom door-and I never saw you again." Something in his face flickers and breaks at those words and suddenly his forehead is pressed against hers, his tone soothing and lilting. "I _love_ you, Swan. That means that I will never want to leave you, bloody irritating woman that you can be."

His quip seems to break the spell and Emma is thankful for it as her eyes had started to feel suspiciously wet at his confession. She lets a hard chuckle out against his lips, still leaning into the lines of his body for a moment before leaning away to look up at him. Killian quirks an eyebrow as he catches her gaze, urging her on.

 _Deep breaths, Emma_. "Then why aren't we," She gestures wildly to his erection again heavy between them, unable to vocalize the question a second time without combusting. "You know."

"Sliding against each other in our skivvies? Tarnishing your royal reputation?" His eyebrows jiggle as he leers at the woman in his arms in an outlandish manner "Setting siege to the pink fortress? Hoisting the mainsail?"

By now Emma has gone from dropping her jaw to full-on clutching her sides in laughter at this man's sheer ridiculousness. "Oh come on, pink fortress? You just now made that up."

"Bludgeoning the flaps," He continues, smirking at her delight. "Buttering the biscuit."

She chuckles and shakes her head, shooting him an annoyed look despite the amused lift of her mouth. "Come on, Kilian I'm being serious."

"Making love," He says finally, voice softening as his hand comes to run across her cheek, tucking wild wisps of hair behind her ear. "All I have wanted to do since that day we kissed in Neverland was make love to you, Emma. Make love with you. I love to make you feel good. I love the way you bite your lip before you come and how ravishing you look with the flush of three orgasms colouring you." He murmurs the words into her ear, lips brushing the shell as pulses of desire shoot up her body.

 _Jesus._ She practically has to fall into him to keep standing and he's doing nothing but talking.

"I love the way your body opens for me, taking me, fitting me so perfectly that I want to stay inside you forever. That every inch out of you is bloody torture," She can hear his breathing increase with her words as he noses her neck and fire floods her veins. He's going take her. In one brilliant second, he's going to have her right there up against their goddamn-

He pulls back.

She wants to scream.

"However, you, my darling, do not want to make love,"

 _Oh, how very wrong he is about that._

"You want me to punish you."

… _.Or, what?_

Killian's smile is so damn patient and understanding and sad as he stands there, letting her sway in his light grasp that she feels the inexplicable urge to cry.

"The first night we retired to this house, do you remember what you tried to do?"

Dread and shame well up in her in equal measure. "Killian, I-I just,"

He brings his fingers to her lips, nipping out what surely would have been a nonsensical ramble.

"You tried to get me to use my body to _hurt_ you." He swallows as he says it and the gutted look in his eyes makes her heart clench. "You wanted me to punish you, and no love, not in the way I think we would both enjoy."

Her heart is to full of his hurt for the levity to break through this time but she loves him all more for the attempt. For trying to make this easier on her.

"And I think," Killian sighs, "That is what you were attempting tonight, as well. I love you, Emma and I think it's fairly clear that I want you in ways that make me feel unmoored," He gestures to his thickness, trembling to her nearness and nakedness. "I could never...to the gods, Emma, I never hurt a women that way in the thralls of piracy and madness. And to start with you, _you_? Do you have any idea what I would do if I ever-" His voice chokes off, a pained keening sound erupting from the back of his throat as he looks down at her with such heartbreak in his eyes that she feels an answering sob tear out of her throat.

Her limbs suddenly come into action and she strokes the scar on his cheek, cups his face, runs a palm down his chest. She suddenly just needs to touch, to mend the unspeakable damage she has done to this man who looks at her like she is the the goddamn sun. He touches back, arms soothing even as she feels him shake a little.

"It's just," Emma begins, refusing to let fear have a place here. He's done more than enough to earn some truth and honesty from her. Some damn openness after she's wounded him. "Killian it is all my fault. All of it. I picked up the fucking dagger. I...I turned you into something else because I was too selfish. I fucking put a sword through you."

She's openly crying now, but refuses to relent. In the back of her mind, it occurs to her that neither one of them have actually discussed everything that transpired between them. Neither one of them (or at least she was pretty sure) had cried or yelled or dealt with the emotions of loss and anger and hurt that these past few months had been. She realizes, clutching him to her, that this moment has been a long time coming. A reckoning of sorts.

Her palm goes to the shiny new scar she knows she put there, pressing lightly. "And then I wouldn't listen again and dragged my whole goddamn family-my son-down to the Underworld only to _let you go again."_ Her last words come out muted, muffled against his skin as she pressed herself against the line of his body, hands digging into his flesh.

Silence falls between them for a moment, broken only by her muffled tears and his quiet sighs until he moves to speak against her skin.

"Been holding that in long, haven't we love?" He keeps his voice low, as if afraid a higher tone will shatter her.

And it might.

She sniffles. God, she's probably getting snot on his shoulder. " I just don't see how you can still want me after that. The things you said in here...before,"

She feels him wince as she mentions their time in the house as Dark Ones. "They were all true and sometimes I-I don't know, those things make a lot more sense than the idea that after everything you still want to be here." _with me._

There is stillness for a moment and Emma is terrified that he thinks she's _angry_ or something for the things he said while possessed. Because really, the whole her possessing him with darkness kinda gave him a carte blanche.

He's still for another beat so she opens her mouth. "Look Killian, I wasn't saying that because I'm angry or anything. Really it was pretty much out of your-"

He moves so quickly she only registers his arm under her ass and hand around her waist when she's already been hauled off her feet and into the cradle of his chest. Instinctively, her wrists lock around his neck and she peers down at him from her perch only to gasp.

He's crying. Noiseless, fat tears were slipping from those oceans of blue down the tanned hill of his cheek and shining in the dark of his scruff. Against the pain in her chest at the sight, it is one of the most beautiful things Emma has ever seen. In his long, long, life she wonders who else has ever seen this man cry.

"Fuck, Swan, no!" His voice is hoarse as he shouts, looking like he might shake her. "No, no, no. Never believe those thing I said."

She cuts him off. "Killian, it's okay. They were mostly true. I do push people away."

He growls. "No! They were _lies,_ Swan, do you hear me? _Lies_. Don't you ever think that you had a hand in everyone who left you, because they were bloody fools. It was never you. It is never you. You...bloody hell, Emma you found me. You found long-lost Killian Jones inside three hundred years of violence and hate. I-please, love. _Please_ tell me you don't believe what I said back then. I can't...Emma, have I made you feel _lesser_?"

He's looking at her with such remorse as tears slip down his face, like this is the nightmare he's always feared and suddenly Emma can't help it. She chuckles.

His dark brow furrows in confusion and she lays a gentle hand against his cheek, rubbing at the moisture there. "You've died like what... three times now and _this_ is what upsets you? That you said _mean_ things to me while being possessed by a thousand year old darkness."

He blinks against her fingers, a self-depreciating smile fanning out under her touch. "Well darling, I have been alive for a very long time now. Dying-

"If you say 'seems like an awfully big adventure', I will hit you."

He gives her that puzzled, then resigned noise (she privately calls it the Quote Sigh) before continuing. "Dying isn't truly frightening anymore." He shrugs, rubbing his nose against her fingers. "Hurting you though," she lets him nuzzle her hand. "Hurting you terrifies me love. I spent too much time knocking those walls down to have them brought back up by some ill-chosen statements."

There's a beat and then they're moving, Killian guiding them to the bed. He deposits her gently before sliding himself in. Emma waits, observing his face while his fingers twist in the ends of her hair. She's started to nod when he speaks again.

"As for all of the other things you've shared tonight," it jars her quickly into wakefulness, heart pounding at his words. "I love you Emma. That will never change. I have never blamed you for my death. I was happy you bloody left me in the Underworld instead of getting trapped with me."

He moves now to stroke through her hair and she knows that whatever follows will be unpleasant. "I am angry that you ignored my wishes and turned me in the first place." Her breath hitches but he pushes on. "I understand, I truly do. I was so desperate to find you in the first place I helped Zelena. I know that feeling. It's just that I spent hundreds of years hunting the Dark One only to become it. I became part of the thing that killed Milah and that hurt, Swan."

His hand keeps her steady as she starts shaking; low, soft strokes that cup her head.

"I was hurt when you picked up that dagger even though the said you love me-by the way darling, bad form, telling a man you love him right before you vanish-because you choose being a martyr over staying with me and I am terrified that one day you may do that again."

She tries to force a choked apology through her lips but he looks repose, words coming out seemingly without expectation. He finally leans forward and kisses the top of her head, pulling her body against his.

"So yes, Swan. You hurt me and I was angry and I was scared. I quite expect that you will do that to me again and I will do it to you and we will argue and bicker throughout the years because you are a painfully stubborn lass." He gives her ass a quick pinch and winks at her. "However, I never want you to think that I _want_ to hurt you. I never want you to feel as if you need to be _punished_ (Seriously though, he had totally left it open for her to bring up bondage) by me for anything you do. You never do. We will fight, Emma, but you must always remember that _I love you_. That means that screaming mad, I still want to kiss you. To comfort you. To cherish you. Do you understand?"

She nods, tucking her head in closer and wondering just how this man had fallen into her life.

"Good, now Emma love, get some rest. I expect we will have more to talk about in the coming days."

He's right, of course. There's a whole barrel of issues still not addressed between them but for the first time since his return, Emma goes to sleep with a smile on her face.

They'll be alright.


	3. With a Juicy Bone

Disclaimer: Still not mine

A/N: A follow-up on the first time Emma and Killian had unprotected sex. Because seriously, August and Neal had a shit plan.

As the water cooled around them, he felt his heart slow and his breathing returning to normal. He opened his eyes and leaned slightly off the shower wall, finally trusting his legs to bear his full weight again. His gaze flickered immediately to her in the confined space. His Swan: gloriously bare with water still streaming down the graceful lines of her shoulder blades, darkening her golden tresses to a burnished amber, slowly drawing the signs of his release down her thighs and into the drain. It would have painted the perfect picture of post-coital beauty if not for his quick attention to two facts: she wasn't facing him and her breathing had changed from the breathy moans of pleasure echoing around them to a sharp, staccato of something decidedly else.

"Swan?" His confused whisper, hoarse with their previous activities, echoed loudly in the shower and Killian watched her actually flinch, arms drawing further around herself.

His gut clenched with fear. Gods, had he _hurt_ her? He quickly replayed the past few moments in his mind. It was hardly the roughest they'd been (they both liked a bit of pain with their pleasure, something he wanted to explore thoroughly when they had more time). She had instigated as soon as the door had shut in his rented room, high off the adrenaline of another chase. He had led them to the shower to serve the dual purpose of cleaning muck off their forms and to hear her cries echo. He hadn't brought protection into the bathroom, his plans involving much more _kissing_ but hers had involved fucking. She had been frank, if embarrassed, about sex and safety in her realm (Being tested for diseases by that doctor had been almost unbearably unpleasant but she more than made it worth his time when they got his clean bill of health back.) and so he knew that they were still safe, and who was he to deny his lady's request? It had all been bloody wonderful, but clearly something had gone wrong because now he was standing in rapidly cooling water with a closed off Swan.

He clears his throat and tries again, taking a slow step toward her. "Emma?"

He hears her breath hitch and feels like someone punched him. If he hurt her, he's never going to forgive himself. He's going to go to the docks and throw himself in. He's going to…

"Emma," Killian's voice has more force in it this time, his hands drawing towards her even as she flinched back.

He grips her wrist firmly but gently and forces her to turn and face him. Her body is stiff but she doesn't fight the motion. Her eyes are unfocused, breathing increasingly ragged and every muscle in her form has pulled tense. His eyes sweep her up and down, scanning for some kind of injury. Not seeing any, he carefully keeps her facing him with his wrist and moves his hand to lightly touch between her thighs, praying he didn't find blood.

The brush of his fingers seemed to wake her and Emma jumped in his grasp, causing his jaw to tense and his stomach to drop out.

"Did I hurt you?" He has to force the words out but he needs to know.

No response comes from the woman in his arms, practically catatonic now with full-body shivering and rapidly increasing breathing.

"Bloody hell." He hears the desperation in his own voice as his hand comes to her shoulder to shake her. "What is it? Did I...are you injured? Because if I did, I fucking promise I-"

He has no idea how he was going to finish that sentence and thankfully doesn't have to as she seemed to snap back to life, eyes lifting as if only now seeing him there.

"No...what? Oh….god, Killian no! You didn't-I'm not," The words are stuttered, said between gasping breaths and chattering teeth as her green eyes look wildly at him. "It's-I just…"

But Killian had heard enough. He was suddenly aware of the chill of the water still falling around him; he knew that she was a moment away from a full-blown panic attack and he needed to get her out of the confined space _now_.

She didn't flinch away this time as he moved around her waist, lifting her trembling form to carry her. Her arms locked around his neck, fingers clutching the skin of his back when her feet left the ground and he could feel her desperate breaths against the side of his neck, causing his lips to purse as he moved them out of the shower. He moved his bad arm under her ass to hold her for a moment as he reached for a towel before heading out of the bathroom and straight toward the bed. He sat the towel down and moved to lower her onto the bed, but at the first sign of his release, she lost it.

Killian swallowed, trying to fight the fingers clawing desperately at his back and the calves that had locked around his waist. He could feel her scarcely exhaling now, skin freezing against his and full-on shaking by now. He needed to get her dry and warm. He needed to get her in the position he knew would maximize her breathing before she passed out against him.

His hand moved in slow circles on her back as he cooed into her ear.

"Swan, darling it's alright. I'm here. I'm just going to get you dry. You're shivering sweetheart and I don't want you to catch a cold. I'm not going anywhere. We're just going to the bed. It's alright, love. I've got you. You've just got to let go. Emma, love, you've got to listen to me."

He kept it up for another beat and sighed when she remained unrelenting. Killian sighed and then released the hold he had on her bottom, pushing forward so his frame was crushing her into the bed. The movement managed to surprise her enough to jostle her grip and he moved fast. He used his weight to push her up the bed and onto the headboard, trapping her strewn legs under his thighs and using his good hand to tilt angle her head slightly up, weight pushing her into the headboard. He felt her start to struggle and moved his thumb to the curve of his jaw, splaying his fingers to keep Emma in place without letting her harm herself. He drew lightly down her arm with his scarred wrist, a comforting gesture he doubted she even registered at the moment.

Killian frowned as he felt her thighs continue to tremble against him, keeping his eyes on her, wild, unseeing gaze closing as she started to choke on air. He quickly focused on her throat, watching the defined lines of muscles trying to pull air in against her panic. He briefly considered simply knocking her out and giving her the peace of unconsciousness, but he knew that whatever had caused this needed to be dealt with and given a respite, she was likely to wall out any future conversation. No, he needed to see her through this and sift out its reason because he never wanted to see this again.

His Swan. His beautiful, broken little lost girl losing to the demons of her mind.

So, instead, he moved his stump from her arm to apply firm pressure to her sternum, watching the play of muscles in her throat as he began murmuring mindless encouragements to her

as he focuses on the way her chest starts expanding again with each breath, her throat loosening enough to allow air passage. He keeps the pressure on her sternum and keeps whispering nonsense until he watches her breath catch and then she starts panting, greedily gulping in air.

It took a measure of control for him not to slump against her in relief as he removes the pressure from her sternum, placing his stump lightly against her heart and drawing some of his weight away from her. He keeps the hand pressing on her jaw until he feels her heart fall to a regular rhythm. Finally drawing away completely, Killian leans back to gather the towel from the bed. He moves to her side on his knees, seating himself next to her on the headboard and pressing the towel lightly into her wet strands of hair. He keeps his ministration up, patiently waiting for her to open her eyes again.

He won't let her run from this conversation, but he knows better than to rush her.

He allows the silence to extend until he feels her shivering as he passes the towel down her forearm.

"Emma sweetheart,"

She opens her eyes slowly at his call and all Hook wants to do is hold her when he sees the mixture of anxiety and weariness floating in their green depths. However, he knew that impulse would have to hold a little longer.

He wraps the towel around her form tightly, soaked from sweat now more than their shower earlier. He reached under him and pulled the covers of the bed up, giving her a soft smile.

"Under the covers, love. We don't need you half frozen again. I believe Lady Elsa would be most cross with me and I quite fear her."

He gets the desired small pull of her lips at that as she complies, shuffling under the covers to lie on her back as he does the same. He shifts on his side to face her, playing with her hair as he waits.

He blames the pirate in him for his admitted fascination with it. Draw to gold and all that.

"She'd sick Anna on you," It's the first words she speaks since the whole ordeal began and her voice cracks.

Instinctually, Killian turns and reaches toward the table beside the bed, passing her the water bottle without another word. Emma takes a few long drags before recapping it and handing it back with a look of gratitude. He resettles with a nod and resumes twisting the golden strands in his fingers, looking at her pointedly.

"What Elsa would do if she were cross at you-She'd lock you in a closet with Anna and tell her that you wanted to talk about love."

He chuckles at that, "You have a terrifyingly macabre mind, my love. Remind me to never upset you."

She smiles slightly again and Killian allows another beat of silence before pulling lightly on the strand of hair he's caught. "Swan."

He hears her long inhale and exhale before she shifts so she's facing him in the bed, towel still wrapped around her form. Her fingers come out to trace the scar on his cheek, run through his hair once. He catches one hand with hers, sliding his fingers between hers and giving her an encouraging squeeze. He reaches under her to stroke her hair with his bad arm.

He knows this won't be easy. Killian has seen her stare down Pan and fight dragons while keeping a level head. Whatever brought out that panic, it is deep and it is ugly.

"How did you know to do that?" Her voice steady, if quiet.

"I spent three hundred years as a pirate, darling. More than one cabin boys lost his head during his first raid."

" _You_ comforted them? Big bad Captain Hook playing nursemaid?"

Killian glanced away at this, a bit of shame trickling in. "Not as often as I should have." He had tried to be as kind to the boys who ended up on his ship as he could. Fair at least. He knew what it was like to be a child in dire straits. More often than not, however they turned up dead after one raid or another. Grown too bold to allow their captain to protect them, too young to stand any real chance. More blood on his hands.

The touch of her lips on his neck disturbed him from his thoughts. She flashed him a quick, apologetic smile before settling her head in the crook of his neck, talking against his ear.

"It was Neal. The last time that I…" She made some sort of gesture with their linked hands but he suspected he knew.

He knew who Neal was to her in the same way she knew who Milah was to him; but he had never pried into the past relationship. While Killian knew the boy Baelfire, the truth is he had only a sketch of the man Neal. He knew that Neal was Henry's father, that Emma had witnessed his death, (twice apparently, because why would the world be kind to Emma Swan) and according to her parents, that she was his first love. He had never felt right about asking how Emma's relationship with Neal had fell apart, as clearly, it had led to his benefit.

"The last time you allowed a man the honor of your body in it's entirety?"

He felt her sigh against him, her lips quirked up. "Only you would say it like that."

Hook shifted against her, nudging her head upward so he held her gaze. "Swan, it is an honor. One only you can choose to bestow upon another person. If you have not deemed me worthy, then of course we will never do it again. I've already told you I have no problems with the sheaths."

"Condoms," She breathed automatically, still holding his gaze. "Look, Killian, it's not that I don't think you 'worthy' or whatever. I want you. I trust you. It's just…"

Emma swallowed, dropping her head back down against his shoulder and nearly burrowing in there. His heart clenched when he realized she couldn't _look_ at him and tell him. Killian unlinked their hands so he could run his hands down the length of her hair in silent comfort, turning away from her to stare at the ceiling while she gathered her strength.

"Neal was my first. I got bounced around too much before, never at one school long enough to trust anyone and not trusting enough to just...you know, experiment."

Her phrasing causes his lips to quirk but he stayed silent, waiting for her to draw another breath.

"Anyways, I had been on the streets for a few weeks then. I...I had run away from the last group home."

The hitch in her breath told Killian that there was a story there and he locked that piece of information away for a less raw night.

"Neal and I met in a car. My bug, actually. I tried to steal it, but it turned out he already had. Anyways it was just...I knew how to take care of myself, I've always taken care of myself but he was older and had all of these tricks for living on the street-and I was so..tired of being alone. We just, we hit it off, you know?"

Her speech pattern was rapidly increasing and one of her hands had moved to clutch at his bad arm, fingers tightening around his bicep. He paused from stroking her hair to press gently to the back of her neck to ease some of the tension he felt building there. He kneaded gently against tight muscle until he felt her shudder and pull a deep breath, her fingers more holding and less scoring his flesh.

"Anyway we-well we, you know," Another vague gesture accompanied the heat he felt from the face still buried against his neck.

To be honest, it did churn his stomach to think of her with any other man. It made him want to hold her closer and bite marks into her flesh and give her completion until she was wrecked for anyone else. However, this talk was about Emma and she was clearly embarrassed so Killian did what he always would do-

"Darling, unless I'm quite mistaken about the nature of life itself, I believe that Henry is indicative of the fact that you two had amorous relations. If I'm wrong, however, please enlighten me. I did hear a child once in this realm tell me something about storks so maybe-" He protected her.

It earned him a light punch and a chuckle from the woman resting against him, and Hook counted himself victorious.

"You're insufferable. Anyway, I had never...the first time it happened I didn't really realize what was going to happen until we were already _there_. I mean, I wasn't an idiot, I knew that tab a went into tab b and had walked in on enough people in the group homes that I had certainly seen enough. It's just that I hadn't...I hadn't realized we were going there until it happened but I loved him and he told me that he loved me and it was fine."

He was tying complicated knots in his head to keep his cool. He was pretty sure that she could feel his jaw tick, but Killian bit his tongue. She had to get this out, all of it. He could hold his temper for the moment. She was worth it. He held onto that thought for a minute or two before loudly exhaling. He could wait. He _would not_ interrupt her.

"How old?"

He is an arse.

Emma lifted her head and blinked, seemingly surprised by the question. She had stopped when she felt Killian tense against her, but clearly she hadn't thought he was going to interrogate her about her previous sexual experience with a man he had once raised.

"Uh-The first time? Sixteen." She managed to get out.

His mood darkened. Suddenly, he was calculating Emma's age in his head. If Henry was ten and she was….No, this was about Emma. _Emma, you wanker._

Hook cleared his throat. "Apologies, lass. Please continue."

Emma shot him a bewildered look, clearly still thinking the question weird but shrugged and went back to resting her head against his shoulder.

"So that first time was spur of the moment and we weren't prepared. Most...other times we would steal condoms, not sheaths Killian _condoms_ , from stores or get them handed out at safe-sex drives or...whatever. Sometimes we had been on the run too long, though, and even though we were homeless and thieves I just figured that since we loved each other...if something happened that it would be okay. At least our child would be...loved."

She has to stop then and Killian waited for her to pull herself together again and continue. He knew that she loved Henry. Loved him enough to put to shame whatever she felt for him. Loved him enough that for whatever reason they were separated, Killian was sure that she had done it for him. For Henry.

Emma starts back up, her voice resolute. "But then Neal got in too deep so we had to leave. You know the cliche, one last job before getting out. The only thing was that he was to recognizable so I went in his stead. Apparently...apparently August found him and told him who I was and that I had to become the Saviour so no Tallahassee. Instead, when I went back I found the police waiting for me. I couldn't...I didn't rat him out so I went down instead. I was already in prison when I found out about Henry. I knew I couldn't….I was in no place to raise a child. So I gave him up...Anyway Killian, that's why. Fuck, I'm sorry that I took such a long time to make my point, but that's why I was so...freaked out today. The last time that happened I ended up in such a bad place and it just brought back all of those feelings. It's not you. It's not that I think you lack worth or someth-Killian, are you okay?

Emma's question broke the dam on the teetering control Hook had possessed. He kicked his legs out, bringing his knees under hers to force them to fold. Both arms banded around her and he rested his head next to her chin. He started a slow rocking motion, needing to hold this woman, needing to soothe her before he stormed off and desecrated a grave. He pressed his lips against any patch of skin he could reach, his breath stuttering out.

"Killian, seriously what's wrong? Is it...did I-"

"You-" Hook bellowed out, only managing to curb his fury when he saw her flinch away at his tone. (He's an _utter wanker_ , he thinks) "You, Swan did nothing wrong. You are an amazing woman who has been put through _so_ much and you were so brave. So strong, Swan. So good. You, _gods,_ the things you do to me."

He let his arms relax just enough to trail his fingers across her spine, pulling down to kiss her fully. Lips met in a heated, wet slide for a brief moment before Emma pulled back, her nose scrunching.

"But then why are you so upset?" _Bloody fucking hell_ , he realizes. She doesn't get it. Did she think...Killian's blood froze. _Does she think she deserved that?_

"Swan, you just told me that a man who claimed to love you, a man I helped raise: pressed you for your innocence, was careless with your body, and abandoned you to take the fall for his crimes while you were carrying his child. Love, am I not supposed to _want_ to hurthim?"

She looked surprised, mouth gaping, and his chest aches.

"It isn't really," She started, frazzled. "I mean, I wasn't unwilling or anything just kinda surprised. Plus, he had to leave me. August and the whole curse thing, and he never knew about-"

No, he will _not_ listen to her defend them. (The wooden man-child and he were going to have a long chat sometime soon.) He kissed her again, hard and desperate, sliding his tongue against hers until she was panting when they pulled away. He rested his forehead on hers for a moment, catching his own breath.

"Swan, you were _sixteen_ the first time, _eighteen_ when you had Henry, and he was a couple hundred years old," At her lifted eyebrow he nodded, "Aye, Neal spent some time in Neverland as well. The point is, he had plenty of experience to know a woman's body well enough and you…" He's so furious he almost can't get words out. "Fuck Emma, you were such a young lass and he should have bloody asked before taking you, especially your first time. What in the seven devils does 'surprise' mean?! He said he loved you and you had never even...he bloody knew how to be careful and he should have asked and taken his time and fuck, Swan did you even-"

"Hook, you are not about to ask me if I _came_." Emma pokes his stomach, too close to punch him, her eyes alight with indignity. "And yeah not all of it was perfect but it's not like your life has been so picture-"

"I helped RAISE him, Swan!" He can't curb his volume this time and he's sure he's clutching her too tightly but this was too much. "I helped to form the man he became: the man who left you carrying his child. He abandoned...he knew what that does to someone. He knew it and he still-" He's too choked to finish and suddenly it's not about Emma anymore. Because, while Killian is almost more enamored with Henry than Emma half the time, he is never quite sure he's doing _right_ by him and this latest piece of history seems to prove exactly what the fruits of his child-rearing attempts will produce.

Emma softens in his hold, and understanding suddenly lights her green eyes as she reaches up to touch his jaw. Instantly, Killian feels the fight leave him. He buries his head in her neck pulling deep gasps of air as he clings to this woman he loves more than life, needing her to weather the storm this revelation brought to him.

"Hey, Hey, Hook-Killian. He didn't know. Even I didn't know when I was arrested." She's trying to pull him up to look at her and he scoffs against her throat.

"It's hardly like it was an impossibility. I'm sure Baelfire knew how babies were made."

He feels her tense against him again but doesn't mention his change in moniker. "And oh what, in all of your pirating years you've never had unprotected sex before?"

"I picked up a spell in Tortuga. Jinxed my charms with them." The charms rest against his chest even now, something he never takes off. He shrugs and finally relents to meet her gaze again, "It prevents conception and the nastier side effects of...disreputable company. The only time I did was when I was a wet-behind-the-ears lieutenant and I was so terrified I visited her every time we dropped into port for six months just to be sure."

(He can scarcely recall what the woman had looked like, all these years later but he still remembers that she had laughed at him every time he did this.)

Killian watches as the black of her eyes expands in surprise. "Hold on, you never..."

Emma pulls away now, sitting properly against the headboard to face him. "I gave you like, the most excruciating two hour lecture on _every_ birth control method known to man and how if I forgot to take a pill, we would _not_ be 'having relations-'"

He takes a moment to appreciate that he is so gone for this woman that her distinct, mocking use of his vocabulary brings a wave of affection that warms him down to his toes before it crests back beneath his skin. Really, there's no saving him.

"-and practically forced you to let Whale touch your dick-"

He does flinch at that. Hook is pretty sure he's managed to suppress most of that encounter. The doctor had made a slightly suggestive comment _once_ and ended up with a mouthful of hook.

"-and you never thought to mention that you had magic'd yourself a condom and IUD all in one?"

Hook watches the play across her face. Her brow crunches like she can't decide if she's angry with him or not.

Killian shrugs and looks down to rub his thumb across her knuckles. "It seemed important to you, to use methods you were comfortable with, and I truly am not terribly picky about how I have you as long as I do."

He knows he's veered too close to that emotional ledge that will frighten her away with that confession (but in his defense, she had looked so aggravated after The Talk with him that he couldn't bring himself to push her. She wanted to use some strange sheath? Fine.) so he removes his hand from hers and leers-"Multiple times. In several positions. In different places."

Emma's look of sheer exasperation is just as predictable as his suggestive follow-up, but it is quickly replaced by the long, discerning look he's learned is the tell of her superpower coming into play. Killian feels his heart clench as if it was back in the hands of the crocodile because she's still surprised that someone might put her first.

Once a lost girl…

She finishes her search but still seems distrustful of her findings when she shakes her head.

"Whatever, that's- Whatever. Anyways pirate, Neal isn't a bad guy. He had to go. If he hadn't then Henry would never have found me and the curse would never have been broken. It wasn't like he wanted to," Her voice falters here like she isn't 100% sure about that fact but she carries on. "There was a prophecy, Killian."

If Hook was a lesser man, he would have audibly sighed. "Oh, sod the prophecy, Swan. Did it say you had to left with child in a brig? If it was so bloody important that you get to Storybrooke then why didn't he just take you there with him? If you loved him, he could have eventually found the book and convinced you. He could have just had himself arrested, that would have separated you two without having you take the fall."

His mind is running through the myriad of ways Swan could have reached this town without abandonment. Really, this had taken his moments and the wooden man-child and Neal must have had hours, at least, if not days. How could they have…

The whirl of possibilities spittles out of existence the moment Emma's lips touch his.

Her kiss is soft, but unrelenting until he opens his mouth and allows her to pull his bottom lip between her teeth, nibbling lightly. She had somehow freed both hands and used them now to cradle the back of his head, stroking the hairs at his nape. Killian falls into her flow, tightening his grip around her waist and relaxing his legs enough to tangle them with her. When she finally breaks the kiss, there is a soft smile on her lips and a look of wonder in her eyes.

Which confuses him. Here, he's just admitted to fucking up her first love so he tossed her and her first move is to kiss him?

Because this is it. This is his ultimate failing. He raised the bastard who would grow up to _damage_ the woman he loves. (Even if she's not ready to hear that.) But really, would a child half-raised by pirates turn into anything less?

"You really would never have left, would you?" Emma's eyes are soft as she says this, fingers carding through his hair as she looks at him in that wondrous way he would _kill_ to keep. "No matter what."

Hook is a little too far gone to understand the rhetorical nature of her question and instead he crushes her against him again, agitated. "Of course I would have never bloody left. Seven hells, Swan, I've been left. I had seen Bae left. He hated me so much he asked to be dumped out to bloody sea rather than stay with me. I would _never_ abandon even the possibility of my own child. I can't even-"

Long, slender fingers with carefully tapered nails press against his mouth until he stills. Killian waits, thumb drawing circles on her hip to distract himself. Emma assess him for a moment before speaking again.

"What if...What if I was pregnant now? Oh god, Killian-I'm not- it's just a question." She follows so quickly that he must have made an incredible expression. "We've just never really talked…"

Emma has this gesture, this wide arcing movement with her right hand into the air whenever she's fumbling for words. He watches as she makes it now. "I mean, you're great with Henry-and everything in this town is fucking crazy so I have no idea how...I just-"

He finally gets what she's asking and feels the air pulled from his lungs. (Ironic, considering what started this whole bloody conversation.) Emma's child. His and Emma's child. His thoughts stir again but this time it is of babes with Liam's eyes and golden hair. Little girls with dimpled chins and boys with bottle-green eyes. Swan, her body swelling with life that _they_ had created. And- _STOP_ , Killian reprimands himself sharply because they are no where near ready for that. Aside from the fact that he is indeed a touch old-fashioned and might actually like to wed before having children, there is the simple fact Emma still can't hear him say I love you. That she had a panic-attack, an hour (hours? He's lost time with all the heavy talk.) ago over not using something that's nature impedes conception. The fact that whatever she says about Henry, he utterly failed his first attempt at fatherhood and how could he be trusted with something as precious as _her_ child?

Killiam swallows down the images her question brought and meets her gaze again, still thumbing the sharp line of her hipbone. "I want whatever you see fit to give me, Swan."

She scowls back at him. "That's not an answer, Hook."

It is the truest statement of his damned existence, but he knows better than to say _that_.

"Emma...you are a wonderful mother and while I am flattered your boy seems to like my company on occasion, I'm afraid my record with fatherhood is a tad…" _Dubious. Leaves much to be desired. Lacking._ He can't quite pick the adjective.

An expression flits across her face too quickly for him to read and then she moves them again, curling her body down and around him so her head rests against his chest and his bad arm is slung across her back. He notices that her skin has warmed again and the observation relaxes him slightly even as her weight comforts him.

"Killian, my dad took Henry _driving_ and he still wanted to hang out with you instead when he lost his memories. Whenever he comes back from those stupid 'boy time only' sailing trips, he literally won't shut up about you." The slight envy in her tone makes him grin against the top of her head, planting reassuring kiss there. "He's started organizing the loft because it's not 'ship-shape' or 'seaworthy'. Seriously, Killian he reorganized Mary Margaret's wardrobe by _colour_." He's shaking under her with silent laughter now. "Even Regina couldn't get the kid to keep his room tidy and he's now lectured me about the importance of putting shit back where I found it. Henry adores you. You keep him out of trouble and taught him to _clean_. Plus, you know, Neal isn't your fault."

Hook feels himself still at the sudden attack. He would almost be surprised at the well-laid trap if he hadn't seen her do it so many times. Instead, he felt admiration war with the physical pull to duck from whatever was following that statement. Emma must have felt him stiffen, because her hand began trailing his sides in what was undeniably a soothing motion.

"If anyone taught him how to leave people, it was Gold. And god knows what shit Gold told him about you that made him not want to stay. He probably convinced the kid that you were Dracula or that you drowned puppies or something...and even _if,_ and I sincerely doubt it, meeting you somehow made it easier for Neal to…listen to August; you've already done the best thing a parent could ever do."

"And what's that Swan?" He would deny on pain of death that his voice shook.

Emma smiled up at him. "You stayed. You came back for me, for Henry before you even knew me. You got us home safely and then rescued us from New York. You jumped into a fucking _time portal_ -oh yeah buddy don't think I was fooled into thinking that you fell. We will be discussing that at some point-to bring me back to him. Then the smoke cleared and you just...you stayed, Killian, and that's the most important part."

And there it was, he realized. What separated Hook from Neal, from Gold, from _his_ father, from _her_ parents. What broke the chain of orphaned children. What made Emma trust him with her son, who he _loved_. Because no matter what he had done, he had turned his ship.

"Plus you've seen me sweating like a pig in the jungle for days without showering and as a crying, sobbing lunatic and practically tore my goddamn head off when I _asked_ if you might freak out and run from a pregnancy so I'm pretty sure you're staying." His Swan continued, smiling a secret smile against his chest as he felt his chest lighten and tighten all in one moment.

Emma looked up and winked-she fucking winked-at him. "So, all good with the I'm-a-shit-parent bullshit, sailor?"

He wanted to write sonnets about her. He wanted to tell he that he loved her. He wanted to stand on a mountain and scream about how wonderous, how redeeming her light is. He wanted to fuck her into the mattress until even Ruby blushed when she met his eyes. He wanted to…

"Aye Swan, all cleared up about the shit-for-a-parent bullshit."

"Good, because panic attacks and long-drawn emotional conversations are exhausting and I'm going to take a fucking nap now."

"Aye love, whatever you wish."


	4. Silence the Piano

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, no.

A/N: My one darling reviewer convinced me to continue. Any prompt you give me is done.

Killian makes arcs.

Emma realizes this one day and she gets a tingling under her skin telling her to _pay attention_.

It's not like she hasn't noticed the way he moves before. Emma would rather die than inflate the man's ego any more, but for someone who spent most of his years on sea, Killian moves like a cat on land. He is all lazy, indulgent rolls of the hips and honest swagger when the sun is up and they are holding hands on the stroll to Granny's. The moment he senses trouble, however, (and she swears he's got spider-senses or crazy-sea-people-senses because the man sniffs out any sort of storm miles off) the entire line of his body tenses and he unfurls into a predatory _stalk._ There's just no other way to describe it. He dances when he duels, and when he's dancing it's just as smooth, as pulsing and rhythmic. He's such a delight that Emma has no shame in admitting that she likes watching his movements, catching them in the corner of her eye.

Hook's ass is also fucking fantastic. So there's that too.

Emma can trace his movements in their house with her eyes closed.

("Routine Swan, that's how things are kept in ship-shape.")

Upon entering the doorway he immediately veers right, hanging his coat on the far left stand before removing his boots and circling through the kitchen to the stairs that lead to their bedroom. He'll deposit his shoes in the neat little row he's made in their closet.

(Sometimes, if she wants to fuck with him after a particularly obnoxious quip or annoyingly long day, she'll go into the closet and just kick the shoes so some are tilted just a touch left and other's touch right.

"Bad form Swan."

His pout is too damn cute.)

Sometime's, if they're staying in or going out, he'll change clothes. After, he'll make his way back down the steps and through the kitchen to find her, typically in the living room roasting in front of a lit fire.

Every day she's home, he trods the same arc: doorway, living room, kitchen, bedroom. Back again. A nice semi-circle. When she first notes it, Emma chalks it up to the fact that she lives with a man so fastidious that they would have given valium in the real world. Which, as an afterthought, she's truly glad never happened because he's grabby enough when drunk or stoned. He'd get them arrested if he got high on that shit.

Truly though, he had zero qualms about helping her break into the library for shits several nights ago to see who was the better:

" _Pilferer, Swan. I am never a thief."_

And engaged in the great-book-raid of Storybrooke, but throwing her socks on the floor was a crime.

" _The basket of clothing is right there, Swan."_

" _It's a hamper, Killian."_

She won, by the way. All books were returned to Belle the next day, much to her amusement.

" _Seems the pirate is rubbing off on you sherriff."_

" _Oh, contrate, Lady Bell. Swan here was proven herself the far more accomplished plunderer."_

" _Really, Killian? Really?"_

Thus, when Emma first noticed this nuance in her boyfriend's movements, she thought nothing of it other than another Killian-quirk. It wasn't until she observed it in other places that a pattern started to form in her mind.

She'd been debating the merits of officially deputizing him when the call came in. The ancient radios of the sheriff's office made Emma and Killian both jump from their perches. She reached it first, patching back in to take the call.

(One day soon, she was going to demand a serious technology budget from Regina.)

Some concerned citizen had spotted some foul beast by the lake. Used to Storybrooke by now, Emma quite suspected it was more likely to be a feral raccoon than an actual monster, but checking it out wouldn't hurt.

(Like, everyone in town was paranoid at this point. She had gotten three calls over a lost deer last week and two over 'strange tides'. There were soda cans in the water.)

"Ready to ride, Captain?"

Killian's easy smirk answered for him and they piled into her bug. His banter about what they might expect-

("Maybe this time the feared hellbeast will be a bear instead of a deer. Or perhaps one of the forest trees ogled Sneezy for too long.")

-filling their ride until she pulls the car into park and their destination becomes apparent. At which point, Hook went silent.

Emma can count on one hand, no pun intended, how many times she's seen the pirate actually speechless. One of them involved a Victoria's Secret splurge. Another was introducing him to her handy...helper. (The slack-jawed, wide-eyed expression of his face when he realized the purpose of her vibrator is one she would give an arm and a leg for to have a picture of. The slowly appearing smirk and following events after his realization, a night she could never forget.) Numbers three and four involved the slow clasp of her father's arm on his shoulder, her mother's honest smile, and the idea that he truly might have a family. The last being when Henry casually referred to him as his step dad to a friend at school when they went to pick him up one day.

(He hadn't spoken for a long time after that one. Instead, he squeezed the life out of her thigh muscle and blinked against suspiciously wet eyes the entire way home.)

All in all, Killian's lack of diatribe kinda unnerves her. "You alright there?"

Blue eyes took a panoramic of the lake, gaze flicking between the sleepy trees to the lightly ruffled water.

"Aye Swan. However, as I see no hellbeast to speak of, perhaps I may remain in your vessel until you return."

The tingling in her skin ignited to full-on itchiness. _Danger, Will Robinson!_

Because when was the last time Killian turned down her company? Oh, when he had been cursed.

Emma eyed him for another moment, mouth opening and closing on unsaid words as she stood outside her bug, car door still open. However, Killian didn't look cursed. He looked...nervous. His left foot was subtly tapping against her glove compartment. Good hand was drumming on his thigh. Eyes flickering between the lake and his toes.

Like, super anxious.

"Alright," Emma breathed, afraid that a louder tone might fracture bone. "I'll be back in a second."

She left him in the car, looping around the lake herself. Her thoughts were preoccupied even as her eyes scanned for movement in the perimeter.

Her eyes noted a squirrel hissing through the trees and vaguely she wondered if it had warranted her call out here.

She came to the sandiest part of the bank, the water as inviting as an ocean when she stood stock still.

 _This was where-_

Emma had hardly forgotten that this was the lake that the took the boat to enter hell. This was the one she had stood before Nimue and lost him. However, she hadn't realized that her feet had taken her to the exact spot (she was sure. Would never forget the scenery behind his crumpled form) she had drawn Excalibur through his body. She had known but-

 _Seeing it, Standing there-_

Abruptly, her stomach churned and Emma found herself bending at the waist over the lake (the portal to Hell) and divulging her lunch straight into its waiting waters. Her abdomen clenched and in the back of her mind, Emma was almost alarmed at how fast the sickness came over her. At the cloying scent of blood that seemed to sift in the air around her in spite of the clear lack of it. She felt herself gasping for breath in between the dry convulsions that ran down her back. The feel of marsh grass between her fingertips made her realize that at some point, she had fallen to her hands and knees beside the bank. Her fingers involuntarily clenched and released the soggy strands between her fingers. Time spun out as Emma tried to collect her breath.

 _It was only a memory. Only a memory._

She had her heart rate slowed considerably by the time a warm hand and familiar brace were tugging her up.

"Let's go love." Hook's actions were expedient to the point of desperation. One moment she sensed him behind her, tugging her to her feet, and the next he had her in the passenger seat as he drove the bug away.

(David, of all people, had given him driving lessons. With hook on the clutch and one hand on the wheel, he had proved quite proficient. Emma had just scowled at him the first time he drove the bug to pick her up from work. It was still her car, dammit.)

In spite of her queasiness, Emma's hackles rose as she assessed him driving her car. Typical Killian would have pulled back her hair and waited for her stomach to quell. Typical Killian would have walked the lake with her. Typical Killian would be making small-talk about the probability of them finding jack shit beside the lake.

The tense, hurried man who was currently commandeering her vehicle? Not typical Killian.

That was when Emma began to notice a pattern in his movements. When going to check on his ship, he walked through the forest to get to the docks rather than the much shorter path by the lake.

("I need my exercise to stay in tip-top form for you, love.")

It was a literal arc, moving circular from their house to Granny's and then down to the docks.

("Can't a man enjoy the company of true mayor of the town?"

She hadn't had a comeback for that one. Granny was probably the most influential person in town, not that she'd ever fess up to Regina.)

She'd been too queasy to question him then. It wasn't until he refused Henry a trip to sail that things came to a head.

"I'm sorry lad, I'm afraid that her time out of my charge has led to her being less than seaworthy."

The sparkles in Henry's eyes had dimmed but he gave an understanding nod. Emma, however, smelled the lie as it rolled off his skin.

Screw patience. She was done seeing him sit in self-flagellation.

(Jesus, even in her mind she spoke like him.)

"Alright Hook, spill it."

They were back in their house, Henry having gone to the Xbox after his refusal to sail but Emma was having none of it.

She saw the moment he tried to make light of it, his body tensing and then forcibly relaxing at her words. "Really Swan I need to clean up the-"

"Save it, Killian. What's going on?"

Killian scratched behind his ear and Emma went from itching to know the answer to being sure that something, something was up.

"Lass, it's noth-"

"Killian, you haven't called me lass in _months_. Seriously, what is going on?" She tried to hide the worry in a harsh tone, but it came out more pleading than anything. Damn the man and his ability to force honesty from her when she was interrogating him.

Hook sighed and went to their stove. He was silent as he heated the milk, pouring in her favourite chocolate bars and stirring the pot until it turned brown. He remained quiet as the concoction heated and he poured it into her favoured mug. One more dash to the fridge and he had whipped cream and cinnamon topping off her beverage.

Emma let him keep while he made the motions, cautiously blowing on her cocoa as the man settled across from her on the bar.

"It's Henry," Killian finally relented, taking in a deep, smooth breath.

Green eyes flickered to his form, hunkering down in his seat. He _never_ slouched. "What about him?"

Despite all they had been through, she still felt the creeping fear of _: he's too much. You have a child. I can't do this_ sliding through her veins.

Hook ran a hand through his hair absently, mussing it worse than before as he stared at the countertop. So, she waited. Counting to sixty in her head before doing it again. If Killian could wait a year for her she could certainly…

"I tried to kill him."

The answer is so quiet, it reverberates in the kitchen. Breaking the silence like glass, a splintering, damaging thing.

Killian sighed. "Back when we were Dark Ones. You fought to keep me alive, love. Maybe you took all the wrongs turns to do so, but that was your objective. But I...gods, Swan. I let those things mark him for death. How can I...what can I...he calls me his _stepfather_ and I almost let those things _take_ him."

He's so anguished, brow drawn up and lips tilted down. Every muscle taut on his form, that is suddenly dawns on Emma even as he keeps talking.

He avoids their foyer. Their basement. The lake.

"I took his form in this house because I knew you could never hurt even the image of him. I was so hell-bent on revenge that I let a bloody dark one mark him for the Underworld. He's...Swan, he is your first love and I almost took him from you." He looks at her and she sees how lost he is, scanning her body like she might hold the key to life itself. "How can you ever forgive me? How can he?

Emma understands with startling clarity the motion of his arcs. She remembers that she's not the only one with guilt over their time as...well, yeah. The damn pirate has been so patient with her, with her nightmares of killing him and guilt over leaving him that she had almost forgotten.

He went through the same thing. Is going through the same thing.

Her heart lurches.

"I care for the boy the boy Swan, I truly do." Killian is babbling now. "I'd give up my life for him. Give up your life." His lips take an unpleasant twist, as if the idea itself tastes unpleasant as she suspects it does. Killian may understand that he needs to protect her son over herself but that idea is hard to make peace with.

"It's just...How can he...Emma, he almost died because of me."

That is the refracturing thought. She detects that this babbling may go on for quite some time, so Emma sips her cocoa as her True Love gets it out. She understands the importance of revealing state secrets to the right people. Christ knows, he had done a better job with her. So, she bites her tongue and waits as it all spills out. His guilt over her son. His son, her mind supplies, but she suppresses that for a moment. Hook continues on, going to her parents and how he was trying to rob her but always coming back to Henry. Always talking about not choosing _him_.

"I know you are my True Love, darling, the gods declared it. But Henry is-" Killian looks lost again, and as Emma finishes her last sip of chocolate, she decides to act. Because Hook can be a lot of things, but lost isn't something she can tolerate too long.

(She spent too long knowing it to let someone else stew.)

"Do you love him?" Her question cuts off his murmured rant about Henry's children flaying into his ankles for revenge and blue eyes blink twice in surprise as he refocuses on her.

She repeats," Do you love him?"

Killian's face hardens and softens in the same movement. "Gods, Swan! How can you even ask me that? Of course I...I will never be Bae-Neal, but of course I love the lad."

Emma cuts him off before he can add more. "Would you sacrifice him to get revenge on Gold?"

The abject horror on his face is worth more than even his pretty words.

"Good. Then what are you worried about?"

He's clearly trying to gather himself. Killian clears his throat, scratches behind his ear, and shifts his feet. "It's just I-I"

Emma knows all too well how the guilt of the Dark One can eat at you. She remembers vividly their last conversation when trying to have sex.

(She would like to point out that after that moment, she had been well-behaved and avoiding jumping his hot pirate bones. They were talking. Spending time together. Living and waiting. Even if she still touched herself in the shower at the thought of him, she was being _good_.)

"You know, he's the one who refused to be left behind when we went to the Underworld." Now that Emma knows what is going on in his head, everything seems so much simpler. _Silly pirate_. "Regina and I tried to talk him out of it. I _begged_. She...well, screamed. I never wanted him to come with us. But he said something neither of us could argue with...he said,"

She has to force her throat to swallow. She needs to be strong for him this time, as he has been for her time after time. This memory hurt though. Any memory of the Underworld, if she's being honest, hurts.

One more clearing of her throat and she finishes, "He said that he'd already lost one dad. He wasn't going to lose another."

Emma knows she has picked the right words, the right thing to say by the sheen in Hook's eyes. She needs him to know how wanted he is, and not just by her. By her son, her parents….

 _Her family_.

Just as she can't stand parking in her garage or looking Sneezy in her eye, Killian it would seem, cannot stand the lake or their foyer or their basement. Quite a pair they made.

But he needs to know that Heny, her precocious, beautiful boy, loved him too. Loved him without her reservations and baggage. Loved him purely.

(Because truly, that is what saved her first.)

"So you know, all things forgiven according to him ." She adds with a slight choke, refusing to cry again over the past.

Hook looks wetly at her but a smile breaks across his face. "Ah, all things forgiven. I'll trust the lad."

It isn't over, not by a long shot. But, there's always been something about Henry that just…

He bursts through the door at that exact moment in all his teenage glory, backpack banging against door panels and head thoroughly up his own ass.

"Hey mom, hey dad. Look, I promise I did my homework on the bus so would you mind if I headed to Violet's? Her dad just bought her a new horse and she wants me to help her break it in so-"

Henry finally looks up and his clever eyes squint in concern at the disarrayed state of his mom and Hook. "Everything okay?"

Both his parents have wet eyes and they're about as subtle as a ton of bricks as they stare at him with abject awe. He resist the urge to scratch behind his ear (where did that come from?) and just coughs loudly. "Seriously, what is it? Is there a new villain in town? Is someone sick? Oh my god, you're pregnant!"

That seems to snap them out of their trance and both Hook and his mom wave disparagingly, followed by frantic nos.

Like having a sibling would be the worst thing in the world. Truly, _adults_.

"Okay...so then I can go?"

Killian nods first, his mother seemingly still frozen.

"Aye, lad. Go ahead and see to the lady Violet."

The lilt of his voice seems to bring Emma back as she calls as he reopens their front door after dropping his backpack.

"Be back by eleven!"

"Twelve," He responded with one foot out the door. Whatever was going on between the two of them, he wanted no part. He had enough trauma for one lifetime. No need to add his mother and her boyfriend getting into it.

"Mind you mother lad," Followed him out the door as he swung it shut and headed towards Violet's house.

Now if only her father wasn't a loon…

Emma and Killian stood comedically still as Henry swung the door shut. The kitchen entered into silence once again.

"Did he just…."

"He did."

"Swan," Hook swallowed thickly. "I love Henry with all I am but I never thought…"

"I know."

"Sweetheart, I love you."

"I know." She's half-laughing, half-crying as she says it, head tilted up to refuse tears. Enough of them. This is a happy moment.

Emma takes the steps between them, wrapping him in her arms and feels his wrap around her waist. His head comes to rest between her neck and shoulder and suddenly Emma _knows_.

They are alright.


End file.
